


Spark

by Pennyplainknits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: kissbingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits





	Spark

The air was thick and heavy with rain, pressing down around them with the promise of a storm. The curtains at the open window flapped in the wind, and with the tiny part of his mind _not_ currently occupied with the angel in his lap Dean heard the first low rumble of thunder.

There was the metallic tang of lightening in the air, and on Cas's skin too, sparks on Dean's lips as they kissed and kissed. It wasn't an angel thing, this electricity. Anna had tasted and felt just like any other human. It was just, Cas. Dean's own personal lightning storm.

Cas pressed closer, his coat and jacket in a long-forgotten pile. Unearthly heat bled through his thin shirt. Dean tightened his grip on Cas's hips and stroked his thumbs up under the worn cotton. Sparks fizzed along his fingers, tingling. Cas made a pleased little sound at the back of his throat and kissed him harder, stroking his tongue into Dean's mouth. Dean felt the scratch of blunt nails as Cas threaded his hands into his hair, holding Dean a just the right angle to kiss lazy and slow and deep. Dean stroked his thumbs slowly across Cas's skin, and Cas made another, more urgent noise, and kissed him harder. Cas was grinding against him slightly now, little movements of his hips under Dean's hands and Dean pushed up to meet him and groaned as their cocks brushed together.

Dean had lost count of how long they had been like this, on the creaky old coach in the creaky old house in the middle of the storm, but, just for now, even though it was quite _literally_ the end of the world, he couldn't bring himself to care. Sam was safe at Bobby's and they were safe here, inside Cas's protective circle. Safe enough to take their time for once, to kiss and kiss and kiss until there was nothing but the sound of their breath and the smell of the storm. It was the longest he could remember just making out in years, but there was no way he was going to stop. Not with Cas full-on _whimpering_ now, and rocking harder against him. Not with Cas's shirt all out of his pants, and Cas fumbling at the front of Dean's flannel, fingers clumsy and eager on the buttons.

Cas groaned and pulled his mouth away long enough to say

"I want- can I?"

"You know you can," Dean panted. Cas shifted back just enough properly undo his shirt, and Dean got a good look at him for the first time in what felt like hours. His hair was messier than ever, full-on sex hair and they hadn't even got to the really good stuff yet. Blue eyes big and wide, and his lips were red and swollen-looking from all the kissing. Dean knew he could fix that with a thought, even now, and it made him kind of crazy to know that _he_ was the reason Cas was too distracted to even think about doing it. His own lips felt hot, chapped, and bruised, but Dean didn't care.

It seemed that Cas did though. He frowned a little and reach out two fingers to brush over Dean's lips. Dean snuck out his tongue and licked them, still tasting the sparks. Cas frowned again and pressed his fingers more firmly, and coolness washed over them. Dean gasped at the sudden sensation, the prickles of cold over his lips an unexpected tease.

"What was that?" he managed.

"You were bruised. I didn't mean to hurt you," Cas said, contrite. He moved his mouth slowly over Dean's jaw, kisses leaving tingles in their wake. "I fixed it."

"I didn't mind," Dean said, breathless as Cas moved to kiss his neck. "I kind of like the bruises- kind of a reminder, you know?"

"You like wearing my marks?" Cas's voice was as low as the rumble of thunder, and Dean felt an electric jolt of arousal.

"I kind of already am," he said, and he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show the hand print. Cas fitted his palm to it, and, as always, it sent a sharp spike of pleasure straight to Dean's cock.

"Hmmmm," Cas said, considering, mischief in his eyes. "That's good to know."

And he bent to kiss him again as the storm whirled around them. Dean just hung on for the ride.


End file.
